


Soppy

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Glitter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:52:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Felipe's last day in the office for 2014. <i>"Some of us have still got fucking work to do, you know..."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Soppy

**Author's Note:**

> Two days late! Merry Post-Boxing Day! Extremely hastily edited, so consider any errors a result of the alcohol-soaked season.

The year has suddenly edged its way into December and the Christmas decorations are slowly cropping up around Grove like festive fungus; Rob's drive to work becomes more sparkly each day. The foyer at Williams is no exception, a tastefully decorated tree not making too much of a fuss about things near the reception desk.

Rob can't really be bothered with decorations in his office - he might forget to take them down, he reasons - bar a few cards from colleagues that are somehow spreading fucking glitter everywhere despite them not being moved or even touched. In fact, he has just been distracted from his work by a fleck of glitter catching his eye on the bridge of his nose, when the door opens and Felipe saunters in with a smile on his face.

"Alright?" Rob greets, taking four attempts to wipe the glimmering speck from his face before the fifth one is successful. Further distraction comes when arms slide around his shoulders and pull him back from his desk. Kisses begin to decorate the back of his neck, each one slowly and carefully placed, each one warm and tender.

"Some of us have still got fucking work to do, you know," he murmurs with a broad smile. The kisses abruptly cease and the arms begin to slip from around him, and he reaches up to grasp a swiftly disappearing hand. "Ah, now, I didn't say stop…"

There's a quiet, croaky laugh close to his ear, and he gets a cuff to the side of the head for his troubles, but the kissing does resume. He allows a small groan to pass his lips, because he knows that Felipe enjoys it when he's vocal, and knows even better that Felipe enjoys the danger of an unlocked office door...

" _Te amo,_ " Felipe says against the shell of Rob's ear once he's seemingly satisfied that he's covered every inch of skin not concealed by his jumper, and threads his fingers through thick auburn hair.

"Soppy," Rob teases.

They chat for a little while like that about nothing in particular, about where they'll be for Christmas, about what their kids want from Santa, about whether it might be considered rude to buy the factory a gift of new (better) coffee machines. Felipe's hand continues to comb through his hair and he can hear his own voice becoming dozier and dozier; he could very easily be lulled off to sleep right there, resting back against Felipe's chest.

"You have still fucking work to do, no?" Felipe says with an audible grin, and this time Rob regretfully allows the Brazilian's arms to lift away from his shoulders.

He gets up to give Felipe a proper goodbye, hugging him tightly and kissing his temple, as has become something of a habit. "Have a good Christmas, mate."

"You too," Felipe replies warmly, happily, not letting him go without a kiss on the lips that deepens all too briefly. As Felipe leaves his office, Rob notes that it looks a little bit like he's walking on air. It's a good look on him.

 

Later, he bumps into Claire on his way for a fresh coffee, which wouldn't be noteworthy had Claire not been aiming quite the bemused frown in his direction.

"Did you change your mind about decorations in the office, then?"

"Have I got glitter on my face again?," Rob asks with a wry smile, wiping at his cheeks and inspecting his fingers. Fucking glitter.

Claire looks up at him carefully - not _at_ him, actually; a little above his head - then appears to stifle a smile. "No, you haven't," she firmly declares, gesturing for him to bend towards her. Bemusedly, he obeys, and she gives him a peck on the cheek before continuing on her way.

He's gotten as far as the coffee machine itself, feeling an incremental increase in paranoia on his way with the looks he's been getting, when he sets down his mug and pushes his heavy fringe off to the side - something that has also become something of a habit - and...oh, hang on, what's...

He reaches up higher, and feels something tucked into his thick hair, doubtless by those relaxing yet mischievous Brazilian fingers. A twig, perhaps. A _sprig_ , perhaps.

He can already feel the heat of his blush when he pulls the mistletoe free.


End file.
